


to rather stay broken

by ValentinesValentine (UnfinishedProject)



Series: two sides of the same coin [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Aftercare, Cowgirl Position, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Interracial Relationship, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, POV Male Character, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Self-Discovery, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfinishedProject/pseuds/ValentinesValentine
Summary: He isn't sure if Nora has seduced him. Or if he's just fallen in love with her despite its improbability. Though it doesn't seem to matter when everything she does makes him feel alive in ways he didn't think possible. In ways he didn't believe synths deserved to be adored.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/X6-88
Series: two sides of the same coin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984399
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	to rather stay broken

He shouldn't have found her beautiful, fascinating. He shouldn't have appreciated that coy smile she was giving him, his skin shouldn't have been feeling hot like feverish humans do. It was wrong what she was doing to him; not wrong that it hurt, wrong because it went against everything he was taught. Her bubbling, short laughter broke the train of his thought and he found himself searching her gaze as to the reason — he was feeling like a fool, laying there trapped like a mole rat between the claws of a deathclaw. 

"Relax, darling." Her lips brushed his as she spoke; more like breathed out the words as if talking was against some arbitrary rules he wasn't aware of. From so close where she leant over him, he could see even the tiniest details that escaped him before; he could even count the freckles that covered her face. The back of her palm brushed across his cheek and his first thought was to grab it, push it away. Instead, his fingers laced with hers, reminding him of the keys of a piano as he pressed a small kiss to her skin. "I won't do anything you wouldn't want me to." 

It had to be true. She was still wearing the clothes, if a set of lingerie and a silky robe could be called that, she wore when he arrived at her suite and he's been still mostly clothed. He was a little uncomfortable at first, the lace doing little to hide her skin; but he didn't have much concerns now. Though that robe was now open, hanging around their bodies like curtains as she straddled his hips; fluttering against his sides with each shudder his touches evoked. It hid the sinful way their bodies connected even if still separated by thin slips of fabric — though not from his own eyes. 

His gaze slipped everywhere but the narrow space between their bodies, ashamed by the thoughts such a sight had run through his mind. His heart raced faster than it should and felt erratic, his breath was coming out in short, stilted puffs and his lips felt dry even if he's been licking at them constantly. Her closeness had him on an edge he has never experienced; an edge he wanted to both plunge from into the deep, the unknown, and run away from to the safety of familiarity. 

The barely there roll of her hips, the strangled sound she made and the smile blooming on her lips had his mind reel with needs that were human; but felt so right when his palm finally pressed against naked skin. She nipped at his thumb as it brushed against her lips and he felt a strange delight surge in his groins. He would've asked if that was something he should feel if only he could find the words for it but she seemed to already know — sucking two of his fingers into her mouth. Her eyes, hooded over with emotions he couldn't name, bore into his as her tongue swirled around him, licked at his skin like the heat of flames around a campfire. And he found it hard to look away, his throat bobbing, mesmerized by those lips around his finger pulling into the coy smile he's seen before. 

And it wasn't just now, scantily clad in her bed that she made him question everything he knew, doubt if he was allowed to feel the things he felt by her side. They traveled together long enough that he had her hands on almost any part of his body, that he had anger flare in him when she giggled at others' teasing or that he was confused but immensely grateful whenever she stabbed a stimpak into him — instead of leaving him to die and ask for a replacement. The present was a culmination of all this woman did — and would continue to do — to have him wrapped around her finger. 

"Nora." His voice was strained and sounding alien to him with a softness he never heard in it. She purred, taking a last lick at his fingers as her eyes fluttered open a fraction more. Her head tilted with an inquisitive arch of her eyebrows but there was nothing more he wanted to say; just enjoying how she reacted to her name being spoken by him. She asked him numerous times to stop calling her ma'am, claiming that it was making her feel old but it never felt appropriate before now to call her by name. 

Wiping his hands on the sheets, his fingers sunk into her hair that cascaded freely onto her back, like many times in combat despite his advice. He tucked a few strands behind her ear, enjoying the smooth, silky feel between his fingertips before cradling a delicate cheek, dusted with the faintest of flushes, and bringing her lips to meet his. She was eager from what he could tell, nipping and licking at his lips with impatient little sounds escaping her. His palm stroked down her neck, across her shoulders; hesitating there for a moment before his fingers brushed along her side. She forgot about trying to gain entry to his mouth, keening and lowering onto forearms as his touch curved across her bottom and down her thigh. 

"I love when you touch me." He shuddered as her lips moved against his ear, whispering such a simple sentence that still had blood rush to his cheeks and respond with a small groan. His hand, that was still holding hers, now joined the other in exploring her body, covering her skin in soft caresses from knees up to shoulders. In the past, he made an effort to keep contact minimal; pushing her out of the way, helping her scale encampments and the one time covering her body with his own. And somehow, she managed to make it hard, always finding a reason to be close to him, to touch him. It was all in vain from his part, seeing how he ended up enchanted by her nonetheless — but the warmth and smoothness of her skin against his palm felt all the more rewarding now. Or that sound she made against his lips when his fingers curled under her body, brushing against her breasts throught the fabric that strained to cover them. It was an encouragement like her words, better even — more honest. 

"You feel nice in my hands." There was a soft, short chuckle spilling from her lips but it didn't feel like ridicule for clumsy words. He told her early on in their acquaintance that he wasn't good with words and more comfortable shooting people — and she never pushed him to change even if she was his polar opposite in everything. She was patient with him since the beginning, shaking her head with that almost sad smile when he got worked up about not carrying out a mission swiftly. And she was patient with him now, too, when he tried to work out his feelings and act on his human needs that haven't existed in his life before she became part of it. 

"And how about against your body?" Her hips met his again, laying flat on top of him — except for the raise of her head, watching his face intently. Like this, he could feel her breasts squeezed between them, her heartbeat that despite her relaxed appearance raced faster than his own, and feel the rise and fall of her chest with each puff of air that tickled against his skin wherever her lips lingered. His hands pressed against her back, just short of touching her bottom. And he could feel heat rolling over his groins with each gentle and unhurried sway of her hips — certain that she could feel the way he strained and pulsed against the confines of his underwear. 

"You're driving me crazy." It wasn't far from how he felt, questioning a thousand things each second she devoted to him. He was constantly at a loss for words, grasping at concepts that seemed foreign and unattainable for his kind. And then there was the delight and warm sensations she evoked in him that had him amazed and scatterbrained; making him yearn for more of what she could give, more of what she so often teased him with. 

That answer and what she's seen on his face had to be enough because she lost interest in watching him any longer; eyes closed even before her lips pressed against his. She was more insistent, begging him without words to part his lips; and he finally relented, allowing her to explore past what she already knew and made herself familiar with after numerous kisses. It felt strange, having his mouth so full but he soon found the cues in her soft caresses. His hips jerked into her at the sound she made when his tongue pushed past her lips; and he wanted to hear that again, that whimper his kisses drowned out. 

Her nails dug into his shoulders as a warning and he let her pull away; wondering when his fingers tangled into her hair again. She was panting already but somehow it sounded different than her gasps for air after running for cover; it was heavier and inviting him to catch her lips in another kiss again. Instead, he pressed a kiss against her throat, feeling her swallow hard, and he wondered if she expected him to leave his mark on her. She mumbled his name, the one she gave him instead of his designation, still breathless as her head tilted to the side and he took it as encouragement to graze that perfect skin with his teeth. 

He almost asked if he did something wrong with that when she pushed up from him, straddling his hips like in the beginning. Her hands slipping under the undershirt he wore quieted down his worries and he watched with hooded eyes as she bunched the fabric up, exposing more and more of his skin. He sat up, making her squeal before wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her; and, probably for the first time in his existence, he smiled, at the pouty face she made. The back of his fingers brushed against her cheek and she seemed to like that, her expression softening into one that he's only seen on her when talking to S9-23. 

"It should be a sin that you're so gorgeous." Her lips curled into that familiar smirk that had excitement course through his veins even though her words left him confused. He never thought of himself as gorgeous or handsome or any other adjective she attributed to him; but she certainly fit the bill on more than one occasion. But even then, he knew it was a compliment and he mumbled his thanks against her lips that could spout the most nonsensical things at times, and she purred in reply, reminding him of the feline someone once snuck into the Institute. 

Though the way her arms and legs wrapped around him, holding him close as his hands rested on her shoulders, toying with the hem of her robe between his fingers, reminded him of a vine clinging around some old world wonder. But she was the old world wonder, more perfect in his eyes than any synth ever — and it was said they were made to perfection. However, it had to be a lie when she was an example proving them wrong — though maybe all she proved to be wrong was his belief that a synth and a human should never share more than a work relationship. 

"You can take it off." It wasn't as much permission as encouragement. He watched as the silk slipped away from her shoulders, baring more of her skin that smelled of flowers and reminded him of blooms he's seen in BioScience. Reluctant to let go of him, the robe hung from her arms; just low enough to expose her lace-clad breasts that brushed against his naked chest with each inhale. He traced the thin straps from her shoulders, thumbs following the neckline until they met in the middle; his palms each filled with a breast. They felt soft and squishy and jiggly in his hands as he gave an experimental squeeze, drawing a soft moan from her. 

If she weren't squirming in his lap, he could keep up for all eternity kneading the mounds of flesh. The light scratch of nails against his scalp sent a tingling sensation somewhere deep inside; not quite the one the roll of her hips could evoke. With a final squeeze, his hands circled around her body; setting about the tiny, intricate clasps that held her lingerie together. He could've just torn open the fabric, but even if she often complimented him on his strength, he doubted ruining the beautiful piece would earn him praise. He opened them one by one, getting quicker the lower he got, and the straps have fallen away just like the robe did. His fingers helped both down, one hand at a time; the robe now pooling on the ground and the lingerie hung from her hips. Looking at her, he wanted to make things to her that wasn't allowed for his kind, wanted to make her feel as good she made him feel. 

Lost in admiring the way her body curved and flattened, her change of position caught him off guard; allowing her to push him back onto the pillows. She pressed a small kiss against his lips, almost apologetic, though she had nothing to be forgiven for — not even for what many would claim to be his corruption. But if wanting to make her happy was a sign of malfunctioning, then maybe he didn't want to be fixed; he didn't want to forget what she came to mean to him. His palms brushed down her back, covering the entire width under his touch. She hummed and keened, growing louder as his fingers dug into her bottom lightly; her face buried against the side of his neck as he worked her lingerie off her body. The heat of her body felt more intense as she retuned the favor, pushing his underwear out of the way until he could kick it away. He could feel her slick, too, as his length, pressed between their bodies, was hugged by her thighs. 

"You haven't changed your mind, darling, have you?" She asked him numerous times during the evening if he was willing to _sleep with her_ ; but even if he wasn't, she would only need to give him a command and he'd have no choice but to obey. But, except for a few times out on a mission, she never ordered him around — she always asked if he _could_ or _would_ do whatever she needed help with. 

"I haven't, Nora." It seemed that was all the confirmation she needed, rolling her hips again as her legs slipped around his side. Straddling him, she pushed up a little, catching his lips in a kiss — and he was worried she wanted to take him already. As embarrassing it might've been to admit, he watched a few, short and educational holotapes before coming over to her suite — though it gave no indication about a few of his concerns. She was beautiful and certainly didn't lack experience but he didn't want to disappoint or hurt her. He was clueless if his size was adequate — she made no comments either way. 

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as her fingers curled around his length — her touch made it hard to focus on anything else. Tangling fingers into her hair, he kept her lips on his, muffling the embarrassing sounds he made in delight as her palm dragged against his skin. In the past, he's caught a few runaways doing that to themselves — and now he could sort of understand the appeal. Still, it was leaving him much too breathless and disoriented to think and he'd be gripping the bedsheets if it weren't for her guiding his hand back to her body. 

His fingers splayed against her back, then brushed across her bottom; giving each half a squeeze that had her make sounds similar to his. His touch circled under her body, following the curve of her bottom — stroking with ease between her legs. She shuddered as his fingertips pressed against her little nub; somehow different than trembles of fear or cold that had her snuggle into his side in the past. Her back arched as he kept rubbing that sensitive point, and her fingers dug into his shoulder that she used to anchor herself above him. She mumbled a few, breathless swears against his lips and he took them as encouragement, brushing his other hand down her body. His touch skimmed across her skin, palming at a breast then the other, trying in vain to knead and hold both at once. His lips followed the arch of her throat as she came up for air, tugging her body higher over his chest; whispering his request against her skin. 

"I want to taste you, Nora." The way she settled over him wasn't how he expected, wasn't how he's seen in that holotape. She was still on top of him, but now facing away from him when offering her most intimate parts to him. It was both embarrassing and intriguing, feeling her warm breath flutter across his hips. He kissed up her thigh, watching with delight that each inch he got closer with had her tremble in his arms; and he felt a strange sense of pride that it was him alone getting her so unraveled that a simple brush of his fingers had her whimper in need. A need that was only for him to evoke and only for him to satisfy. 

His tongue flattened against her skin, wriggling between her folds; the taste of sweetness coating it with the first, tentative lick. It was unlike any substance he's ever tasted or touched. She keened at the way his tongue traced the same pattern his fingers did, hips raising with the arch of her back — and he worried for a moment if he did something wrong. His arms snaked behind her thighs, holding her in place with fingers digging into her bottom lightly — earning him another soft sound. Her shaky, drawn out exhales as he kissed and suckled at her skin warmed his skin and he felt an inexplicable tension in his abdomen without flexing any muscles. 

He wasn't sure what made this any better than the position he had in mind, the only one he knew — other than being able to watch his slicked fingers pump in and out of her at the same time. His answer came soon enough when she shifted above him, the palm stroking at his length falling to its base. And if he believed it was difficult to think when her fingers were curled around him, it was downright impossible when her lips wrapped against his skin. He groaned against her as those lips slid lower around him and her tongue rubbed and swirled around his tip like his fingers before. And his desire clouded mind had to play tricks on him, conflating the way she contracted around him with her hard sucks, like he was already inside her, claiming what was his — although he was more hers, maybe. 

It was her who had him wrapped around a finger, it was her who invited him to spend the night with, it was her who guided him through pleasure — and it was her coming undone. She sputtered swears around his length, each word and each brush of her tongue, sending chills down his spine. Her body trembled in his hold, coating his fingers and tongue with more of her slick; trickling down her thighs what he couldn't catch. She pulled off of him, whimpers rolling off her lips amongst panting for air as he kept kissing at her skin. It was a sight he never longed to see before — but now he wanted to make her unravel over and over again. 

Eventually her body stilled above him, settling lower on his chest before twisting and turning; straddling his hips again. He pulsed against her folds and she made a soft noise between discomfort and pleasure as she leaned down to catch his lips in a kiss. His clean hand tangled into her hair, keeping her close enough to kiss her again and again and again. Her taste was still on his tongue but she didn't seem bothered; if anything, she was becoming more earnest with each passing second. Her hips made a slow sway as his other hand settled on her bottom, wiped haphazardly on the sheets before — spreading her slick along his length with each move like some crude way of marking. He couldn't say it was unappealing, stroking something deep inside him that had him thrust against her hips. 

"Nora, I want you." He whispered against her lips as if he should be ashamed by his emotions, of needing her to feel whole again. Her hips raised and she dragged her palm along his length a few times before settling back against him — and he made a sensual sound that didn't seem to belong to him. He kneaded her bottom as she took to him, peppering her cheeks with soft kisses as her lips hung open with a soundless moan. 

"I've never felt so full before." She sounded breathless, the sentence punctured by soft sounds as her hips rocked gently back and forth — and he felt proud to offer a new experience. He was concerned about a few things — including doubts about his size that she seemed to find more than adequate — given his previous lack of such engagements; but she hasn't complained. If anything, she's been encouraging throughout the night, vocalizing her approval with differing levels of coherence. 

There was another swear on her lips as she straightened, sinking back against him even more; his full length buried inside her. His hand fell from her hair, brushing down her side to cradle another handful of her bottom; keeping her steady as the sway of her hips picked up speed. It was still slow, just testing how much she could rise and push back against him — but enough to get a few, stray groans out of him. If he said it was unlike anything he experienced, he wouldn't be lying; her lips or her feel around his fingers not comparing to the way she felt around him. His every nerve ending felt alight by some strange fire, all too sensitive yet taking pleasure from the way she rubbed and stroked his skin. 

Her fingers dug into his shoulders when biting her lip; as if that could hold back the moans when he thrust up against her. He was past the point where he'd care about being overheard — the sounds she made each time he tugged her flush against his skin only winding him up more. There was a pressure building in his groins, higher and higher up with each smack of her bottom against his thighs, with her ever increasing rhythm. Thoughts eluded him that weren't about how beautiful she looked, bouncing on his hips with a flushed body — or that feeling of letting go and sinking into the pleasure surging within. 

"Nora." It was a warning but, feeling short of air, it sounded more like a plea. She might've misunderstood, she might've ignored his concerns and attempts to lift her off of himself to come elsewhere. Giving up with pulling her off his length, he brushed a palm against her arched back — pressing against her scalp to draw her in for kisses. They were sloppy and wet, interrupted by gasps of air, laced with moans and grunts as her hips rolled against his with a haphazard rhythm. Her muscles started to clamp down on him, dragging him ever closer to a peak that had him tense, ready to burst with million droplets of satisfaction. 

Yet, it was her who reached a breaking point first, writhing on top of him with a call of his name and a few swears. Her mouth hung open in delight and she clawed at his shoulder — riding his length to guide him to his own release. He pulled her against his body as much he could, stilling her ever rocking hips as he pulsed, coming deep inside her. He panted as he let her move against him again, the puffs of air vaguely sounding like her name as she dragged out his pleasure.Their bodies made obscene sounds that would've had him embarrassed if he weren't soaring on a cloud of bliss. Nothing seemed to exist for him but her — and his mind felt as if it would melt, experiencing new emotions and overwhelmed by the intensity of familiar feelings. 

"Holy shit, Nora!" It took him long seconds to find his voice again, low and hoarse from his grunts and moans. She only hummed in agreement, face buried against his neck as she chased after her own voice; heaving stuttering breaths each time she shuddered from the aftershocks or had him pulse against her sensitive spots. He was still settled inside her but, now that his senses started to clear again, he could feel their mixed slicks trickle down their bodies. He knew they should get up to clean — but he felt like never getting up again. Her fingers drew abstract patterns against his scalp, and she was warm and soft against his body in a way that had him wish he could just cuddle her for the rest of his days. It was strange, he never felt so close to anyone in his life, he never expected or allowed himself to — and now it was hard to imagine he ever was, or could be, without her. 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, darling. I sure did." There was that coy smile on her lips again before they pressed against his in a kiss, soft and tender just like at the beginning of the evening. He brushed aside a few strands of hair that now stuck to her skin, pressing his palm against her nape to hold her close. His thumb stroked her cheek, and he smiled as she leaned into the hold, pressing a small kiss against the inside of his wrist. He could've gotten used to it, the way she adored and appreciated him in ways he thought would only make him uncomfortable — and now he felt quite the opposite with her in his arms. 

"Me too, Nora." He was careful with his touches, stroking at her back and cheeks; even if she wasn't a fragile thing despite her looks, she was still sensitive. Whimpering as she climbed off of him, he offered a hand to help; ready to pull her against his side after. Instead, she slipped from his hold and the bed, lingering back by the door to the bathroom. 

"You coming with me?" 

He followed after her like that dog she was so fond of; wondering if he was just like that, wagging his tail and following her in hopes of praise. She already had one on her lips, even if unspoken in the form of a smile, as he squeezed into the shower with her. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he suspected there would be more than just bathing; even before her lips found his. Their kisses were sweet, without any indication that she'd want to make love again — a relief, he wasn't sure he could give her what she'd want. He was already going soft, and even the stroke of soapy fingers against his hips was only enough for a faint twitch. 

The way her fingers worked the soap into his skin filled him with a different warmth than the water rushing down his back, rubbing at muscles he didn't even know were tense. He shouldn't have been so surprised, she's already proved in the bed that her touches felt nothing but wonderful. His touches felt rough and clumsy in return, afraid to leave unasked for marks on her skin as he held her close under the stream of water. He was, even if not stated outright, always tasked with her protection — finding only bitter irony in the possibility of being the one to hurt her. But she didn't seem to mind, now only clinging from his shoulders and enjoying the way his fingers left trails of bubbles across her skin. He felt that same reluctance of letting go; now even more aware of how little time he had before returning to his own quarters with only the memory of embracing her against his chest. 

He heaved the barest of sighs, rinsing away the sweat, slick and soap from her body; turning her this way and that like a little doll. But she was way more than that, having knocked all his preconceptions about her in the span of just a month. She proved it time and again that she was a force to reckon with, and he learned to respect the cunning tactics just like her occasional bursts of bloodthirst — while looking as the spitting image of an innocent, pre-war housewife. Even now when she wore nothing but the towel he wrapped her in, with hair curling some from the steam that fogged up the mirrors and glass — holding out a hand for him to take. 

She didn't hesitate to draw him back to the room, settling on the edge of the bed. It was a mess; sheets tousled, covers kicked aside and pillows indented where his head or her palms rested — reminding him of what they just did. There was a stab of an unidentified emotion at the thought of parting with her just now; but not quite as pleasant she's made him feel while lying pinned by her in her own bed. He was aware of the rules and that he's already stayed out later than he should — and she should be familiar with them and the consequences. 

"Nora, I need to..." Those weren't the words he wanted to say, stroking a cheek softly. His eyes wandered across the room, trying to locate where his clothes have been thrown around to — he might not have a problem with their nudity in her suite any more, but he doubted other personnel would appreciate his lack of apparel. And, even if he was offered to stay, he'd still insist on sleepwear — that he had no doubt would have him see her in something equally intricate and alluring as her set of lingerie was, the thought making it difficult to stand by his decision of parting. 

"You don't. I've made special arrangements, darling." He wanted to ask what her deal was about; but it didn't seem appropriate. Instead, he just let himself be kissed, holding onto her as if, despite her claim, she could disappear from his arms any moment. And, even though it was an unreasonable fear, she was holding onto him just as much; perhaps afraid her commitment would scare him off. Their lips met again and again, and he forgot about his concerns of sleepwear and decency as he lowered her back onto the bed, running fingers against her now exposed body. 

"You're going through too much trouble for me, Nora." It wasn't the first time, and he figured it wouldn't be the last, that she went out of her way to make him happy. And, just like before, she just waved it off as nothing. And that was, among a million things that would take days to list, why he could believe when she said that he was just as human she was or that he deserved to be treated better than a cheap, replaceable object. "Being close to you makes me wish I met you sooner." 

And as if to emphasize his words, he tucked her against his side under the covers; soft, warm and perfect. Her lips curled into a smile, the most genuine perhaps he's ever seen, and her cheeks were flushed a peachy pink under his palms cradling her face. There was a new delight in that expression, not as intense being intimate was; but he appreciated it just as much as any delight she made him experience. Her lips sought his, the kiss so slow and careful as if he were made of glass and would shatter from even the smallest of pressure. But it left him breathless and dazed nonetheless, and that somehow seemed to be his new state when being so close to her. 

"I love you, too, you know." He wasn't sure that what he felt was love, something else or just a malfunction — but it didn't seem to matter when she had so much affection in her voice. Her kisses were filled with the same gentle passion, pressing against his lips with a reverence he felt undeserved. He lost count after a while, uncertain how many it took for her to fall asleep in his arms — but he knew it was his best night, whatever may happen when morning came.


End file.
